


Any Stranger I Choose

by thedesert



Category: Barbie - All Media Types, Barbie as The Princess and the Pauper (2004), Barbie in the 12 Dancing Princesses (2006)
Genre: Arranged Marriage, Crossover Pairings, Developing Relationship, F/F, Femslash
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-15
Updated: 2019-10-15
Packaged: 2020-12-14 07:10:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21011804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thedesert/pseuds/thedesert
Summary: Ashlyn is expected to marry soon. Anneliese needs to save her kingdom from financial ruin. An arranged marriage seems to be their only solution.//heavily inspired by sapphfic's "i need to be youthfully felt 'cause, god, i never felt young" and skyrose's "endless flow".





	Any Stranger I Choose

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [i need to be youthfully felt ‘cause, god, i never felt young](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19110832) by [sapphfics](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sapphfics/pseuds/sapphfics). 
  * Inspired by [endless flow](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19107040) by [SkyRose](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SkyRose/pseuds/SkyRose). 

The lush drapes are pulled back, allowing the pale yellow light of dawn to pool into the room. A trio of girls stir beneath their blankets, unlucky in the fact that their beds are directly across from the towering floor-to-ceiling windows on the opposite wall. Ashlyn, the eldest, is the first to open her eyes a peak but a loud clatter makes her wince.

“_Shh_,” someone hisses, but it’s too late. Ashlyn sits up, squinting in the sunlight. A few of her other sisters do too, yawning and stretching.

“Jesus, Edeline,” Delia mumbles, rolling her eyes.

Delia and Edeline, still dressed in their nightgowns, clutch their croquet mallets. Croquet hoops and balls lie scattered on the floor. Edeline blushes and is quick to scoop them off the floor. Together, the twins scurry from the bedroom, off to play all throughout the castle, no doubt.

Ashlyn looks over at her sisters, seeing that Blair has already gone back to bed, the pillow over her head, and Courtney is rummaging through her nightstand, being obnoxiously loud in the process. Ashlyn stares up at the ceiling for a few minutes, knowing she wouldn’t be able to fall back asleep. She was funny that way; once she was awake, she was awake for good. She never napped like Isla or slept in until noon like Fallon. She wondered if that’s just how she was wired or if it was because she was the eldest and being the eldest was hardly fair.

Finally, after much too long, she swings her legs off the side of the bed and gets up. After rummaging through her trunk, she finds a dress and slips into the bathroom down the hall. Once changed and presentable, she ventures into the castle to start her lessons. She doesn’t have many, just a few so she doesn’t go mad with boredom.

Before she even makes it to the drawing room, a servant pulls her aside. “Your father wishes to have a word with you,” he says before striding off.

Confused, Ashlyn makes her way to the throne room, passing another few servants on her way. When she enters, her father, King Randolph, is engaged in a conversation with a page, a letter in his hand. Randolph glances up and brightens when he sees Ashlyn. With a hushed word, the page is dismissed.

Ashlyn - or any of her sisters, for that matter - is rarely in trouble, so whenever she’s summoned to speak with her father she always feels like she’s going to be whipped or something. She isn’t a troublemaker; she attends her lessons, holds her tongue, and generally tries to keep the peace amongst her sisters.

She curtsies and clasps her hands together behind her back. Absently, she chews on her lip.

“Ashlyn,” her father says, smiling warmly.

Just like that, her anxiety disappears. She’d been worried for nothing. Her father isn’t a cruel man. Hell, Ashlyn can’t recall a time he even _frowned_ at her. Her shoulders relax and fingers unclench. She breathes. 

“How old are you now, dear? Twenty-two?” asks Randolph, though he already knows how old she is. Ashlyn nods, and he taps his index finger on the arm of his throne. “Have you… given any thought to those suitors from last month’s ball?” He already knows she has and that she isn’t interested.

He expects an answer so she says, “Um, not really, Papa.” She shifts her weight from one foot to the other, hoping the conversation isn’t going to go where she thinks it is.

“I was thinking,” he says, looking away from her. “There’s a kingdom nearby. Edwit, it’s called. They’re in financial ruin, you know. One of their advisors was stealing their gold. Horrible thing, really. The princess is looking for a match.” He looks at her then, the question he didn’t ask hanging in the air between them. Or rather, the question that isn’t so much a question as it is a suggestion.

Ashlyn blinks. “Princess?” she repeats meekly. King Randolph nods, and she swallows thickly. “I-” For once, she is at a loss for words.

She isn’t surprised her father wants to find her a match and the kingdom an ally. She has tried to avoid such a scenario for as long as possible. Of course, as the eldest, avoiding a marriage isn’t really possible. It’s expected of her. If she were any of her other sisters, this wouldn’t be an issue. But, of course, with Genevieve getting married a few months back, it’s no surprise Randolph is eager to find Ashlyn a husband. Or a wife, apparently.

Randolph clears his throat somewhat awkwardly. He passes a letter to her. “A letter from the princess of Edwit,” he says, sitting back in his throne. Ashlyn looks from the letter to her father, still stunned and unsure. A knock at the door saves her from saying anything more. Before Randolph can properly dismiss her, Ashlyn runs from the room.

She passes a few of her sisters in the hall, though she doesn’t engage in conversation with any of them. She bursts through the door to the back gardens and breathes deeply, the air clearing her head. She crosses the distance to one of the stone benches, the one obscured by hedges and irises. She sits for a few minutes before reading the letter, the bottom left side now crumpled from her tight hold.

_Dear Crown Princess Ashlyn of Daffield,_

_I hope this letter finds you well and, if not, I apologize for any upsets it may cause. I realize this is a peculiar offer but I’d like to propose a union between our two kingdoms. I am not a prince, unfortunately, but I hope that doesn’t discourage you from this offer. A union regardless would benefit both our kingdoms greatly. I hope to hear from you soon._

_From,_

_Princess Anneliese of Edwit_

Ashlyn doesn’t breathe as she reads the letter, the pace of her heart quickening with each word. The letter is scented with rose and suddenly she feels sick. She swallows, the letter crumpling in her fist. She gazes out into the gardens until her vision blurs and her eyes water.

She doesn’t think she can simply reject the proposal this time. Over the past year, she dodged so many that her father feared there was no one left to reject. With eleven sisters to spare, Ashlyn didn’t think that was so bad. The eligible princes could just pick another sister and that would be that. Of course, Ashlyn would never be so lucky to have that outcome.

As the eldest, she has certain duties that weren’t necessarily required of her younger sisters. Getting married was, unfortunately, one of those duties. Though, somewhere deep down inside, she supposed this wasn’t the worst thing that could happen. She could be marrying a man. She doesn't think she’d be able to stomach such a scenario.

“Oh!” Ashlyn looks up, startled, then softens at the sight of her sister.

“Hey, Courtney,” she says, shoving the letter into one of her gown’s two pockets. She clears her throat as Courtney comes and sits by her sister. Her dark blue dress brings out the blue in her eyes. Her dark hair is pinned up messily. In her hands is a thick leather-bound book, a sprig of mint acting as a bookmark.

“What are you doing out here?” asks Courtney, glancing at her sister.

Ashlyn does not look at her, her hands clenched into fists in her lap. “Father wants to marry me off,” she says finally, exhaling slowly. “To a woman.”

Courtney is silent for a long while, her fingers playing with the edge of the book’s cover. “Is that such a bad thing?” she asks quietly. “Marrying a woman?”

“Well, no,” Ashlyn says. “I had thought that I had denied enough proposals that there would be no one left to ask.” She meets her sister’s eyes. Courtney is smiling and she places a hand on Ashlyn’s arm.

“It could be worse,” she says, her smile widening. “You could be marrying a man.” Ashlyn laughs and nods. Courtney bites her lip and casts her gaze downward. Hesitantly, she asks, “Who’s the suitor?”

Ashlyn stares back out into the garden, her hands tightening on the fabric of her gown. “Princess Anneliese of Edwit,” she replies quietly.

Courtney nods. “I hear she’s pretty,” is all she says.

The girls fall into silence, though Ashlyn can’t tell if the silence is comfortable or not. Ashlyn hadn’t given her potential suitor much thought until Courtney’s comment. She doesn’t know much about the neighboring kingdoms. She supposes that’s an oversight on her part considering she was bound to marry into them at some point.

She sighs and stands, giving Courtney’s arm a reassuring squeeze before striding off. Unless she’s seeing things, Courtney almost looks relieved that the conversation is over. Courtney, always the one to prefer fictional people and conversations to real ones. For once, Ashlyn can’t blame her.

* * *

Ashlyn reads the letter for the fifth time that night, smoothing out the crumpled edge absently. She needs to decide soon. She knows, but there’s still a pang of uncertainty in her chest. If this was any other proposal, her answer would be simple. So why is she so hesitant?

She supposes it’s because she’d be marrying a woman and the idea isn’t as repulsive as marrying a man would be. Even if Princess Anneliese doesn’t like women - though she must, right? Why else would she propose such an offer? - they could become friends. Spending a lifetime with a friend doesn’t sound so bad to Ashlyn.

Ashlyn hides the note under her pillow as Hadley, Isla and the triplets come into the room, all talking amongst themselves. She busies herself with adjusting the blankets on her bed. After righting her pillow for the third time, she straightens. She exits the bedroom without haste, navigating through the dimly lit corridors with ease.

When she halts in front of King Randolph’s bedchambers, she hesitates. _I must be mad_, she thinks as she knocks. “Come in,” her father calls, and she pushes the door open slowly. He’s sitting at his grand desk, pouring over the papers scattered on its surface. A few pages lie on the floor. “Ashlyn!” He stands and hugs her.

As Ashlyn looks at her father, she can feel her resolve dissipating. She knows she doesn’t need to do this, knows that it’s perfectly fine if she declines. In the back of her head, however, she can sense that declining this offer won’t be as easy as it used to be. Her father has no doubt grown tired of her constantly declining perfectly find proposals and who’s to say that Randolph will ask her next time? What if he just decides to accept it on her behalf?

Ashlyn tilts her chin up to look into her father’s eyes and a flicker of concern crosses his face. He pulls away. “You may send word to Edwit that I accept their proposal.”

**Author's Note:**

> this fic was heavily inspired by sapphfic's "i need to be youthfully felt 'cause, god, i never felt young" and SkyRose's "endless flow".  
title taken from the hozier lyric generator.


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